


Finding Home

by HazelRiver



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Bisexuality, Christmas, Divorce, F/M, Fix It Fic, Fluff, M/M, Musical theatre references, Roommates to lovers, age gap, mentions of depression, pansexuality, possible golden circle spoilers, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 01:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelRiver/pseuds/HazelRiver
Summary: Fix it fic for the golden circle. Spoilers for the ending (I guess?) but if you've seen promo pics of Harry in a pink vest then you know exactly what I'm referencing and that's all that's involved here.Eggsy is having a bit of a quarter life crisis, Harry is alive, and Eggsy doesn't really have a place to live. Friendship is tested, egos are tried, and a relationship that was unimaginable becomes home.





	Finding Home

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the summary, this may be considered spoilers for the golden circle. (Just that end scene though, if you've seen Harry in a pink vest then you know what I'm referencing and that's all you need to know.) I saw it tonight then sat down and wrote this in one (5-hour) go. I hope you enjoy!  
> Pure fix-it-fic fluff with some R-rated language.

Eggsy saw the divorce coming from before the wedding ceremony, but he would never tell Tilde that—he didn’t even like it acknowledging it to himself, but it was undeniable. Done up in full uniform staring into a mirror with Harry Hart behind him—Harry Hart alive, dressed for a wedding, and speaking words of pride right into Eggsy’s ear—Eggsy’s gut rolled with the uncomfortable feeling that making a huge mistake usually brought upon him. But he’d ignored it. A gentleman would never standup a princess on her wedding day, and Harry had reassured him that he wasn’t making a mistake.

Looking back, Eggsy knew that was the final nail in the coffin. Harry Hart had told Eggsy Unwin that getting married to another person was a good idea. Harry Hart told Eggsy Unwin to marry someone else. Harry Hart let Eggsy Unwin go. So he went.

What a load of bollocks.

Two and a half years, thousands of pounds in couples’ counseling, and weeks of staring at the ceiling of a bedroom that just wasn’t _right_ later and the divorce was made official. Eggsy was exhausted. Completely wiped. He’d tried, really he had. He wanted to love Tilde, very very much. In many ways he thought he did love her, at least for a time, but not as much as she deserved to be loved by her husband. Not enough to quit Kingsman when she hinted that it might be prudent, not enough to start feeling at home in her home, and not enough to be present with her. Not that any of it was her fault but: still. Eggsy was tired.

No matter how much he tried, no matter how much homework he accepted from their counselor, Eggsy just never felt fully seen by Tilde. He’d been pushed, so he kept going. And the one person he’d turned to for advice, Harry fucking Hart, had repeatedly told him to keep going.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t give it everything you’ve got. She deserves that at least, I’m sure.” Harry had encouraged over martinis one evening. Eggsy had overstayed his welcome, surely. Lounging across Harry’s couch in just sweats and an undershirt, eating Harry’s food, drinking Harry’s drink, and all while the older man remained placid and distant in his armchair.

“She deserves it, sure. But why am I dragging it out? I ain’t meant to be with her, I know that for a fact.” After Kentucky, Harry now sat to the left of all lighting fixtures in his house, so the waxy yellow lighting of the lamp glowed against his functioning eye and tinged the coif of his hair gold.

“Do you?”  Later Eggsy would recognize that as the moment of his epiphany: a marriage could never work with Tilde because Eggsy was in love with Harry Hart. It wasn’t just gratitude for changing his life, it wasn’t affection for the father-figure he’d never had, it wasn’t male comradery in a field where trust was high near impossible to come by. It was love, adoration, obsession. Harry Hart was the end all, be all. Harry Hart was the love of Eggsy Unwin’s life and there was nothing Eggsy could do about it.

“She ain’t the one for me, Harry.” Eggsy repeated, three martinis deep and not sure if he knew what line in their relationship he was willing to cross yet. Harry stared back, unblinking and unbreathing, for what felt like a lifetime. Eggsy thought that would be a very nice example of a lifetime, staring into the eyes of the love of his life for eternity. Then Harry blinked and looked down at his long hands, folded around his crossed knee, before glancing back up with a shrewd look.

“If the Princess of Sweden isn’t right for you your standards must be enormously high.”

“Nah, it’s nothing she’s doing wrong, Haz. We just ain’t right for each other. I think I’m supposed to be with someone from my world.” Eggsy meant the world of justice, of course he did. For months following he would wonder if Harry thought he was being a snob-against-the-rich again, as the original Agent Galahad shuffled in his seat and gave an exaggerated yawn. Shit acting for a professional spy, but Eggsy didn’t call him out on it.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry to hear it. You’re welcome to the couch, I’m heading up for the evening.”

That’d been a month ago, before Eggsy had started his newest mission. It’d been the last time they’d properly talked besides short pleasantries around headquarters. Eggsy felt that Harry was avoiding him, but couldn’t prove it, Harry was as polite and courteous as always—just less present.

His mission had been straightforward and the conclusion to a month of undercover work in a violent drug ring. After spending the night in dark allies and damp backrooms, the Kingsman headquarter lights seemed too bright, glaring down on him as he made his way back to his base room where he could change out of the blood-stained jeans and shirt and into sweats and a vest.

Eyes itchy and head throbbing, Eggsy didn’t fail to duck his head in to thank Merlin for his guidance throughout the evening. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, in the past few months Eggsy had never felt more mortal or alone—especially when working a solo mission that involved breaking up a gang that welcomed him with open arms; lying to friendly faces that ended up being friends of friends while divorcing a princess was not where Eggsy had foreseen his future going. Having Merlin in his ear was a blessing and godsend; Merlin’s discretion was an added bonus.

“Do you want to talk about it, lad?” Merlin had asked, swiveling in his chair to stare at Eggsy with a piercing gaze full of understanding. It hadn’t been uncommon for Merlin to be forced into playing voyeur to Eggsy and Tilde’s phone calls between and during missions. If anyone knew the tension in his marriage, it might be Merlin. But whether Merlin meant the relief of another mission closing, a marriage ending, or doing-his-head in by realizing he was in love with Harry is beyond Eggsy. He wondered if Merlin knows and thinks that he probably did, since he always had a way of eyeing the pair of them that felt peculiarly like an unveiling.

Behind the Scotsman the monitors were blinking and rolling, cataloguing and connecting and whatever else the fuck they do. In one of the upper-level screens Roxy was slipping a hard drive out of a lipstick tube and plugging it into a mark’s computer with steady hands, but the overhead speakers revealed the sounds of nearing feet.

 Eggsy sighed, forcing a smile that felt unnatural and more like a grimace than anything that would convince his friend of his lie,

“S’alright Merlin, thanks though. I’ll catch you tomorrow for the debriefing?”

“Aye. Half past noon ought to do it.”

**

For knowing and accepting that he wasn’t in love with his wife, Eggsy took the divorce rather hard. With Harry back in his own home (as he should be), moving out of the castle left Eggsy a tad homeless. He spent the first two weeks in a hotel, alternating between sleeping and ordering up overpriced room service that made him feel fat and lazy, then a week in Germany, before his mum convinced him to move back home.

Eggsy stayed up late, woke up early, brought Daisy to school, headed into Kingsman, then went home and started again. Staying up late doing nothing, scrolling through social media and tagging Jamal in memes he was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to respond to. Eggsy was a bit bitter. He’d gone through a fucking divorce and Jamal was off in wedded bliss with a girl Eggsy had only met twice. Not that he blamed Jamal for that, but couldn’t he have the consideration to be like Harry, Merlin, and Roxy and be alone too?

But Roxy wasn’t alone, she revealed to him in his mum’s kitchen with a smile over her mug of tea…and apparently neither was Merlin.

“You what?” Eggsy deadpanned, tossing his teabag in the trash and stirring in his milk.

“I’m going out with Merlin tonight,” She was containing a grin, properly for his sake, as she continued, “it’s our twelfth date and I think-”

“Woah! I’m fucking sorry, did you just say it’s your twelfth date with Merlin?”

“Yes-” Roxy sighed.

“Merlin? Our Merlin?”

“Yes, Eggsy-” She set her tea cup on the counter with a role of her eyes, letting him continue to interrupt with waving arms and a choked laugh,

“Merlin with the bald head and the elbow patches on his cardis? That Merlin?”

“For fuck’s sake Eggsy! Yes! Now will you let me get a word in?”

Eggsy quieted, knowing that she wasn’t really upset and actually enjoyed his dramatic outbursts almost as much as he did, he gestured for her to continue speaking before butting in once more,

“I thought he was gay.”

“Don’t be a twit, he’s pansexual…and a very good kisser.” With wiggling eyebrows the blonde resumed drinking her tea as Eggsy moved to cut a piece of stale cake for them both.

“Didn’t need that info but thanks mate…Is kissing all he’s good at?”

Her laugh was contagious and Eggsy’s hands shook with it as the crumbly yellow cake plopped onto her waiting plate, covering the fading flowers of his mum’s favorite china,

“Oh Eggsy, wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I might actually.”

“From what I hear-” but Eggsy would never learn what Roxy had heard about him, as his mum noisily clambered into the flat with shopping bags hanging from her arms and resting on Daisy’s stroller. In weeks to come Eggsy would confront Roxy about it multiple times, in the kitchen at headquarters, passing in the hallway, the one time he would accidentally walk in on her snogging Merlin in his office—but she would never relent, saying she shouldn’t have ever brought it up in the first place—“you need to figure it out for yourself, Eggsy, it’s not my place.”

“Hello loves, how’re we today?” Michelle practically sang, kissing them each on the cheek before lifting Daisy and allowing her to do the same. Eggsy took his younger sister on his hip for a moment and fed her a bit of his cake before she demanded to totter off on her own.

“Great Mrs. Unwin, thank you for having me—and for the cake-” Knowing Roxy she was about to list each and everything she was thankful for (the tea, letting me in from the hot weather, etc. etc.) but Michelle cut her off with a guffaw,

“Anything for you, dear. I’m just going to put these away in my room with Daisy—enjoy the kitchen, I’ll give you lot your privacies.”

Roxy waited all of three seconds after the door closed before she turned to Eggsy,

“Aren’t you dying to get out of here?”

Eggsy knew she wasn’t particularly close with her parents and as soon as the funds had allowed it she had gotten her own flat, not far from Hyde’s Park, and lived their happily ever since. He thought he might feel lonely if he were to do that all by himself, and told her so.

“Nonsense, it is complete freedom. There’s nothing like walking around your own flat nude in the middle of the day—you’ll love it.” In his depressed state he couldn’t imagine living alone as something he would ever look forward to.

Eggsy thinks that’s a cheap trade for helping Daisy tie her shoes every morning before school, but he doesn’t say so to Roxy. Instead, he digs back into conversation about Merlin and their romantic evening planned around seeing _Les Miserables_ on the West End.

“Nothing like starving French people to set the mood for a night out.” He quipped between bites of cake and licking the crumbs from his fingers.

“Musicals _are_ romantic, Eggsy.”

“Sure, Rox, sure they are.”

But his mind drifts to My Fair Lady and exactly how romantic that musical is and how he wants to see it while sitting next to Harry Hart, their knees casually bumping together during the overture and their fingers brushing over each other’s as they order martinis at intermission, but it’s not even playing on the West End. In Fantine’s very depressing words, “there are dreams that cannot be…”

**

It was not a month later, when Eggsy is on the couch in only his boxer pants eating a Chipotle bowl rewatching _Gavin & Stacey _for the third time and Daisy has been asleep for hours, that Michelle brought home her new boyfriend.

Liam. He was Irish through and through with red hair, freckles, and a promotion at his advertising company that moved him from Dublin to London six months ago. He’d been dating Michelle for four months—news that came as quite a shock to Eggsy, but he didn’t say that as he stood in just his pants to shake hands with the tall and rather attractive man that Michelle stood beside.

It was when his mum explained, “I was just going to show Liam my, um, headboard” that Eggsy checked the fuck out.

“That’s ok, that’s ok mum,” The couple shifted awkwardly as Eggsy ran a hand through his unkempt hair with his best attempt at an understanding grin as he lied, “I just got a call from Harry, actually.  I’m just gonna change and head over there, don’t think I’ll be back till morning.”

And only ten minutes later he was in the back of a cab phoning Harry, the dial tone suffocating his heart as he dipped his head back to rest on the cool leather of the seat.

“Everything alright, Eggsy?” Harry didn’t sound tired but Eggsy doubted he would let himself sound it even if he was, he’d been a blank slate with Eggsy lately and as much as it was driving the young man up the wall he really wasn’t in the right mindset to pick a fight with the one person whose presence brought him physical relief but the pain in his chest. Still, it’s nearly half past one in the morning and he’s thankful Harry didn’t sleep through his call.

“Um,” Eggsy wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so close to crying, but he wiped a hand over his face as he cleared his throat, “do you think I could crash with you for the night, Harry?”

The black night pressed in through the cab windows at the elongated pause that came before Harry answered,

“Of course, Eggsy, my home is always open to you. When should I expect you?”

“En route now, see you in ten.”

When he arrived Harry ushered him upstairs to change into a spare set of Harry’s pajamas as Harry made them tea. It was eerie being back in the place he had once called home, when Harry was presumed to be dead, but not to be living there. He knew the layout like the back of his hand, knew which stairs would creak, knew the exact number of twists the sink needed to be the perfect temperature for washing his face; as he changed he wondered if he knew the house as well as Harry, probably not considering the man had lived there decades longer than Eggsy had, possibly for longer than Eggsy had even been alive.

Harry looked like bliss, at all hours of the day. Eggsy couldn’t help but to stare for a moment, caught in the doorway of the kitchen, transfixed by Harry’s broad shoulders in his pajama set. Even his sleepwear is made up of button downs, Eggsy mused as Harry pulled the kettle from the stove just as it began to whine. As he poured the water into two mugs Eggsy’s eyes are drawn to his knobby wrists, then his bare feet as he padded to the bin to toss the teabags, and then he turned and gave Eggsy a sympathetic smile that made the younger man’s heart stutter and leap. At home he traded his glasses in for his eyepatch (maybe without company he went naked, Eggsy didn’t know) and Eggsy found that he had grown rather attached to the soft material of the patch over the firmly professional look of the glasses. Harry’s tossled hair didn’t hurt the picture either. The domesticity of the scene was a vice around Eggsy’s heart, the unattainability of the comfortable scene clenched so tightly it made it difficult to breathe.

Rather than approaching the subject of Eggsy’s sudden arrival in the middle of the night, Harry politely gave Eggsy time to relax by beating around the bush.

“You know,” Harry greeted in that way of his, like he was continuing an ongoing conversation rather than ever starting a new one, “I didn’t realize until this week that those are a new set of curtains in my kitchen.”

As Harry spoke they didn’t settle down in the kitchen like Eggsy imagined they would, nor did they settle in Harry’s office. Instead they shared Harry’s couch. Harry sat first, cradling his steaming mug between his (beautiful, veiny, large) hands, before Eggsy joined him.

Only after he sat down did Eggsy realize it was customary for one of them to always be in the armchair if the other had already claimed the couch, but it would only draw more attention to the seating arrangements if he up and moved: so he stayed. It was a comfortably large couch, their knees had more than enough room between them, but the angle forced them both to tilt their heads and lean towards each other to converse.

“Yeah I uh kind of slipped and grabbed the old curtains, tore the whole thing straight off the wall. My mum picked the new ones to match as close to the old as we could get them, sorry about that.” Eggsy doesn’t mention that he was off his face drunk when he had tripped over his own feet, mourning Harry with deep drinks from the expensive liquor cabinet.

“All that trouble to match them when you didn’t even think I’d be coming back?” Harry sounded appropriately amused, but in his eyes there was a softness that spoke of how touched he was by the gesture. Wisps of steam tickled around Harry’s thin lips, drawing Eggsy’s attention to how wonderfully kind they were even when closed.

Eggsy wanted to tell him that he missed him like mad, cried every day for months, couldn’t hear his voice without tearing up about it, felt like complete shite for letting Tilde move into Harry’s bedroom with him, never made love in there because it felt like…Eggsy’s mind stopped there. Felt like what? A betrayal? Maybe.

Instead Eggsy took a noisy sip from his mug,

“I didn’t want to disturb Mr. Pickle’s peace, he has the place set up just how he likes it.”

“How considerate of you,” Harry’s smile broadened before he shifted, setting the mug down and turning on his side to rest his head in his hand, “You’re not obligated to tell me, of course, but I am curious to know why you’re here.”

“I just couldn’t stay away.” Eggsy wanted to say he was teasing, but was sure that if Harry was even slightly less oblivious that the way Eggsy quickly tilted his gaze away might have revealed that he was harboring a flame for him.

“Eggsy,” His tone was soft and coaxing, not unlike the way Eggsy sometimes spoke to Daisy when she was crying, “you do know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

“Course I do, Harry, don’t be stupid-”

“And you do trust me, don’t you Eggsy?” Harry reached out but abandons the movement so that his hand’s intended destination remains unrevealed, instead it fell between them on the couch.

“More than anyone, I think.” Eggsy was glad they weren’t drinking or he might have been tempted to reach out to grasp Harry’s seductive digits.

“Good…So you’ll tell me what’s wrong then?”

Eggsy wanted to shake Harry off with a “where do I start” self-deprecating joke, but Harry’s home was too quiet with anticipation and worry for anything but honesty.

“I’m struggling a bit, Haz. The divorce was tough, you know?” Eggsy shrugged, determined to ignore his suddenly itchy eyes, “I may not have wanted to live _that_ life with Tilde but I still loved her, I guess I was comforted by having someone to depend on.”

“That’s completely understandable, Eggsy. We live a lonely life, it’s not one that comes with easy adjustments.”

Eggsy nodded before he heard himself blurting out,

“And Roxy’s dating Merlin.”

Harry seemed surprised, not by the news but that it bothered Eggsy.

“I didn’t realize you harbored romantic feelings for Roxanne.” It was delivered to Eggsy’s knees and provided the first stab of hope the younger man had felt in months, possibly years. Eggsy being interested in someone else _did_ effect Harry.

“Nah, you got it all wrong. She’s like my sister, you know, it ain’t like that.”

“What is it like then?” Harry’s gaze was penetrative, intense, warm. Eggsy found he couldn’t move more than his lips,

“I’m lonely.” It wasn’t something Eggsy was proud of, but he wasn’t ashamed of it either. He was lonely, it was a fact. He was a divorced man in his mid-twenties with a job that made it impossible to maintain longstanding connections outside of work, of course he was lonely.

“I’m always here, Eggsy-”

“You haven’t been of late though, have you Harry? Why’ve you been avoiding me?”

He looked taken aback, truly surprised by Eggsy’s forwardness, before he pressed the pads of his fingertips to his eyepatch and set his lips in a thin line.

“I thought you needed some distance, what with your divorce. I suppose I misread the situation. And your mother, haven’t you been staying with her?”

It hurt that Harry had to clarify where Eggsy was living. Harry! The one man that Eggsy had been mentally keeping tags on since the moment they meant, he and his whereabouts were always there lurking in the back of Eggsy’s mind, and yet the man wasn’t even positive where Eggsy was living. Harry’s thigh bumped against Eggsy’s knee and he didn’t remember moving so close, near enough that his fingers were only inches from Harry’s on the cushion between them.

“Yeah but she uh, well she came home with a bloke tonight. Bit uncomfortable, that.”

“What will you do now?”

“Look for a flat, I guess.” Eggsy shrugged, emptying the last drops of tea into his mouth before placing the mug on the table, “Rox says she knows a good realtor-”

“You should stay here.” The world slammed on the breaks so quickly that Eggsy thought he might have whiplash.

“With you?” Bounding onto his knees, Eggsy gripped Harry’s shoulders in disbelief.

“Well that’s the general idea, yes, to help with your loneliness and allow you to avoid the sounds of your mother’s-”

“Please don’t say ‘love making.’”

“Orgasms.”

“Oh Harry, please!” He looked entirely too smug as Eggsy mimed retching off to the side, still gripping Harry’s fabulously warm shoulders through the thin cotton of his night shirt.

“Would you like that, Eggsy? To stay here with me?”

_More than anything? Does this come with an engagement ring? Will you fuck me into your mattress?_

He settled for,

“Yes, Harry!”

**

By the time the week was out Harry had helped Eggsy move into the guest bedroom, delaying in the doorway on Eggsy’s first night there before insisting that Eggsy should redecorate the room in whichever way he liked.

“I love it just as it is, Haz, I promise. Wouldn’t change it for the world.” Harry seemed to stumble slightly at those words, gripping the door behind him and murmuring his goodnights before leaving Eggsy to lie back in peace.

His eyes barely had the chance to close before Eggsy called out,

“Hey Harry!”

The door opened again and Harry peaked in, silhouetted by the hall light and casting a long shadow across the rug.

“Thanks for letting me stay, I’ve missed you.”

Harry coughed before responded, “I’ve missed you too.”

**

Eggsy thought it would be harder to live with Harry than it was to be apart from him, but Eggsy was wrong. It might have been harder to live with Harry if Harry was dating or social in any capacity, but Harry never seemed one for casual dating and the post-Kentucky Harry had become a bit of a hermit. That suited Eggsy just fine, he too enjoys the comforts of home after missions and debriefing. It isn’t hard to live with Harry at all, Eggsy gleefully discovered within a month, it was quite blissful to share a home with the love of your life, even if he had absolutely no clue what he meant to you.

They established a routine without needing a dialogue of rules or comforts. Harry cooked, Eggsy cleaned, they split rent, they shared errands. Eggsy rose early and showered in the en suite, by the time he made it downstairs to start unloading dishes Harry would slowly be shaking sleep away. If one man was on a mission he made sure to call or text the other multiple times a day, whether Harry did this out of obligation or not Eggsy wasn’t sure—but he had a feeling what had started out of obligation grew into enjoyment.

In December Eggsy was nodding off on the couch, eyes having abandoned the fight to remain open and finish the latest episode of The Great British Bake Off, when his text alert sounded out. Blearily he grappled, heavy fingered, with the phone before sliding open a text from Harry.

_Will be home with a gift in an hour. Prepare your socks to be knocked off._

Eggsy’s eyebrows rose of their own accord, he’d never gotten a gift before on a day that wasn’t a holiday or his birthday. In a right panic he quickly checked the date, Christmas wasn’t for another two weeks so at least he hadn’t forgotten.

Grinning then, both at Harry saying “home” and out of the excitement of a gift, as he typed out his response.

_Consider them prepped. Can I have a hint?_

A grey blurb with three black dots popped up before disappearing, Eggsy was breathless with the wait before a fresh response arrived.

_It is very large. And smelly. Much like yourself._

Eggsy nearly dissolved into tears then, not of hurt but of glee. A Christmas tree! Harry had finally relented. He had been trying to persuade Harry to upgrade from a plastic Christmas tree to a proper one since the end of November, but to little avail. The older man turned up his nose at the idea, literally. Citing the mess and the smell and amount of space trees took up as his excuse for avoiding the holiday tradition.

_What made you change your mind, Haz?_

Another grey blurb, erased, revived, erased, before:

_With Michelle on holiday it comes down to me to provide a proper Christmas. Turkey or ham?_

Eggsy did tear up then, at the kindness, at the thoughtfulness, at having Harry create a little family out of just the two of them. Eggsy sighed, his chest needing to get rid of all that air to make room for his pounding heart, before answering again.

_Turkey. Let’s worry about that later, just get my tree here!!_

Then after a moment of consideration, staring down at his phone and unable to stop smiling, Eggsy added,

_PS—u r the best. I am moved._

There was barely a second’s hesitation before Harry’s words, in Harry’s voice, brightened the screen.

_So long as you’re not MOVING lol xx_

Eggsy doesn’t regret teaching Harry how to slang type, not one bit.

_Never xx_

It would be a very happy Christmas, indeed.

**

The Christmas tree was erected as they shared whiskey spilt into hot chocolate, upon Eggsy’s request. Michael Buble poured from Eggsy’s Spotify app as he and Harry carefully transferred the surprisingly sentimental ornaments Harry had collected over the years from the plastic tree to the live one. A heart shaped photo of Mr. Pickle dangled below a plastic umbrella which was only a few branches over from a green glass bulb with a printed message across it.

Upon closer inspection, Eggsy found that the slanted writing was a message from Merlin. _Merry Christmas you wanker. – Merlin_

“We’ll have to pick one up at the shops tomorrow,” Harry surprised Eggsy, coming up behind the younger man to study their progress. A warm hand radiated against Eggsy’s shoulder as Harry leaned around him to straighten an ornament shaped like a tie, “to commemorate your first year here.”

Eggsy’s gaze dropped to Harry’s lips, wishing desperately that he would punctuate his words with a kiss. Instead Harry blinked at him, slowly and after blatantly studying him, before he gave Eggsy’s shoulder a squeeze and moved back to grab another ornament from the plastic tree.

“Perhaps Netflix has one we can order.”

“Are you having a laugh?” Eggsy wouldn’t mind, he knows, even if Harry was.

“No,” Harry glanced over his shoulder to regale his sincerity, “I don’t know what I would do without you,” before turning away and sinking Eggsy’s soaring heart, “I’d never have figured out how to set Netflix up on the tele, and I’d never have known who the _Broadchurch_ killer as.”

“Right,” Eggsy rolled a snowflake ornament between his palms, enjoying the pricking of its pointed sides as he watched Harry reach up to set a star atop the tree, “course.”

Michelle stopped by in the middle of the festivities, with Daisy on her hip and Liam hovering behind her in the hall. Harry invited them in for drinks and festivities, apologizing for their slightly sweaty dispositions with an explanation about the tree. With his mum’s gaze upon his Eggsy noticed for the first time that Harry kept a hand on Eggsy’s lower back as he spoked, and called it “our home,” and didn’t seem to mind that Daisy had tracked muddy water through the hall on her way into Eggsy’s arms.

“No that’s alright, thank you Mr. Hart, we’re just stopping by to say our goodbyes.” Michelle turned her attention to her son and with a watery smile explained, “We’ll be in Dublin with Liam’s family until after the New Year—are you sure you don’t want to come? There’s plenty of room, Eggsy dear.”

If he had any doubts about staying behind before they were diminished when he felt Harry’s fingers clench minutely against the fabric of his shirt. There would be no leaving Harry, his chosen family, behind. Not for the holidays.

“Don’t be silly mum, go on. Have a blast, Harry and I got it covered here.” Daisy wriggled then, bending herself backwards to reach toward Harry as Michelle continued on,

“You don’t wanna come spend the season with family though, love?” It sounded pointed, there was no avoiding that. Harry withdrew his hand, his presence stiffening beside Eggsy.

“Really mum, Harry _is_ family more than Liam’s family would be. No offense, Liam.”

“None taken. Michelle, if Eggsy wants to spend Christmas with his boyfriend then we should let him.”

It was in that split second of growing awkwardness of misunderstanding that Daisy managed to kick Eggsy in the ribs in her successful pursuit to reach for and yank Harry’s glasses from his face. Had Eggsy not been distracted by the growing tension in the room he might have thought not to hold Daisy on Eggsy’s poor side, Harry had been at the disadvantage of missing an eye and failed to see Daisy’s hands target.

“Oh my god!” Michelle gasped as the glasses clattered to the tile, mercifully not breaking. Eggsy couldn’t help but stare at Harry then, it had been quite some time since he’d seen the injury and even then it had been for just a brief moment. If it had been awkward when Liam had mislabeled them as a couple, it was positively unbearable now that Harry’s injury was on display. The proud man that he was he only flinched, but did not move his hand to cover the scars, even as Michelle and Liam stared.

Setting Daisy on her feet, Eggsy swooped down and collected the glasses before pressing them into Harry’s sweaty palm.

“Daisy, you can’t just grab at people’s things. Them glasses aren’t yours to touch, Harry’s got a booboo on that eye. I think you should apologize.” Eggsy tried his best not to be patronizing, while still instilling manners into his little sister as his mother seemed to have forgotten hers completely.

“I’m sorry Harry.” The little blonde beamed up at the tall man, gripping the knee of his trousers in her surprisingly strong grasp.

“That’s quite alright, Miss Daisy, you couldn’t have known that I was hurt. Now, Michelle it was lovely to see you, Liam it has been a pleasure meeting you, and Miss Daisy I wish you a very Merry Christmas.” He was turned away even as Eggsy stepped back to touch his elbow. They made eye contact that brought a blush to the younger man’s cheeks, his mother had never seen him act in any sort of intimacy with a man before. Harry offered a grim smile of consolation, “Eggsy there’s a present for Miss Daisy in the hall closet, don’t forget to grab it on your way out.”

Then he disappeared upstairs, leaving Eggsy to watch his long legs take the stairs two by two until the sound of a door closing confirmed his dismissal.

**

“Are you daft, Harry?” Eggsy didn’t bother knocking, knows it would just give Harry another opportunity to turn him away.

“I beg your pard-” Harry was sat on his bed, in the dark, looking rather like he had just been about to let himself cry.

“Did you really think I was going to walk away? What, because of your eye? Because my mum’s boyfriend called you my boyfriend?”

“Well, I didn’t want to-” Eggsy stood in front of him, only allowing himself to ponder on Harry being eyelevel with his crotch for just a second.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me, bruv. I ain’t going anywhere until you tell me you don’t want me here. Do you want me here, Harry?”

“Of course I want you here Eggsy, I’ve come to think of this as not just my home but our home.”

“Me too, Harry, glad that’s settled.” Eggsy began to head towards the door, not ready to drag this conversation out longer than it needed to be. It was just a stupid mishap, nothing to fixate on, “Come finish the tree with me.”

“Look now, but that’s the problem, my boy.” It was impossible not to preen under the term of endearment as he turned back to face his mentor.

“What’re you on about, Haz?”

“I’m afraid our arrangement isn’t convenient anymore.”

“Convenient?” Eggsy clarified, eyebrows arched and adrenaline spiking into its arguing gear.

“Look, I know this is quite comfortable for you: a place to live, a friend to rely on, but I feel as if I’m stunting your growth here. You needed to bounce back from the divorce, you’ve done so. Now perhaps it’s time for you to move on.” He didn’t make eye contact when he said it, but even still, Eggsy couldn’t call his bluff. Couldn’t pretend he was alright with having his happiness yanked out from under him.

“You think that’s what this has been to me? Friends? Roommates? You fucking blind in both eyes Harry, or you just stupid?”

Harry stood at that, a gentleman always ready to defend his honor.

“Harry I’m fucking in love with you! How’ve you been missing this?” Eggsy shifted to the right as he stepped toward Harry, the light from the hall drifted in and highlighted Harry glancing at the floor. A hollowness opened up in the pit of Eggsy’s stomach as silence consumed them, a pair of grown men merely ten feet and thirty years apart but incapable of getting their shit together.

“Oh,” The realization hit Eggsy like a punch to the gut, “you didn’t miss this. You know I’m in love with you, you don’t…?” He hated putting the question at the end, didn’t he? But he had to know, had to clarify, had to be broken if he wanted to be able to piece himself back together.

“Eggsy I couldn’t miss it if I had tried! You’ve never been exactly subtle, have you? Lingering grazes, wishful looks—you’re bloody incorrigible.”

Eggsy’s face was a proper flush then as he grit out,

 

“Harry you better get to the fucking point real soon, mate.”

“Eggsy, as flattered as I am I could never in good conscience let you waste your life with me. I’m old, injured, grumpy, and – let’s face it—I’m growing agoraphobic in my old age. You saw the judgement on your family’s faces, if my age weren’t enough to spoil me for you then my eye has surely done the trick. You were married to a princess, Eggsy, why don’t you see how high you could set your sights? Why on earth would you want to settle for an old man like me?”

Eggsy doesn’t remember moving to Harry, just knew that by the time Harry had stopped his ridiculous speech Eggsy had his hands on both of Harry’s burning cheeks.

“I lived in a castle for two years and I’ve never been happier than I am right now.”

“Eggsy-” Harry tried to pull away, but Eggsy had youth and love on his side, so he kept them close. Close enough that he could feel the strength of Harry’s body, the heat of him, the guilt poisoning his mind.

“Do you love me, Harry Hart? I’ll know if you’re lying. Do you love me?”

“Eggsy, need you really ask?” One whiskey colored eye gazed down at him, “How could I not love you?”

“Then don’t send me away Harry, please don’t send me away.” Feeling slightly ridiculous but aware that he would never forgive himself if he didn’t Eggsy pressed his lips up against Harry’s and nearly crumbled at the perfection of their coming together,

“I don’t care that you’re old, or that you’re injured, or that you hate other people. That all just means I get more of you to me.”

“It’s wrong, Eggsy, I’m stealing your youth-” Harry’s breath was hot and his neck stick, but he never tried to pull away.

“You’ve always been a selfish man, why change now? You’re not stealing, you fool. I’m giving it to you, of free will and sound mind. I love you Harry, I’ve always loved you…Please don’t send me away…”

“Oh Eggsy, my dear boy…” And he kissed him, finally, Harry Hart kissed Eggsy Unwin. It was a relief, a rebirth. His soft mouth claimed Eggsy’s stronger lips, sucking at the bottom lip, and delving in to taste the heat he had so long forbidden himself to ponder, “How I love you, my Eggsy…”

**

Six months later Eggsy’s heart nearly gave out at the sight of Harry on the beach, beneath the canopy of roses they had helped assemble in their home, with the minister behind him. He’d never had a problem with an audience before that moment, as their eyes bore into him and made his knees feel weak as he walked down the aisle toward the love of his life. It was a long walk, down an aisle of white carpet on the pristine white beach, before Eggsy was able to relax at having made it without tripping.

“Hi there.” He murmured, cheeky and adoring as Harry’s eye dipped to Eggsy’s smile.

“If you don’t mind, Eggsy, could you not shag your fiancé at my wedding?” Merlin nearly growed, with no heat in his tone as the musical whirled to a crescendo. The audience rose and turned then to see Roxy in a simple, elegant wedding gown making her way down the beach toward Merlin.

The ring on Eggsy’s finger burned as he listened to their friends exchange their vows. During the “I do’s” he couldn’t help but glance up to his own fiancé then, Harry looking all regal and proper in his tuxedo and coifed hair.

“I do.” Eggsy mouthed, heart fluttering as Harry returned the favor.

As the couple were announced for the first time the sun began to set on the horizon behind them, and the bridal party paired off so that he and Harry linked arms and walked down the aisle as a pair. Both giddy and disbelieving of their luck, both eager and honored to spend their future with the other, both hopelessly in love and quite proud of it.

“Four more months.” Harry pressed his lips to Eggsy’s temple to say as he brushed over the gold band on Eggsy’s finger.

“Three months and seventeen days.” Eggsy corrected with a smirk, “Then you can make a proper man out of me.”

“Oh darling,” Harry chortled, “if I haven’t done that already, there’s no hope for you at all.”

 

 


End file.
